shishnit.org

I remember his first birthday morning.  I cried.  I didn’t sob.  I cried, because my baby would never technically be a baby again.

His first day at pre-school I got really choked up but managed to shed only a few stray tears.  My toddler was a’goin to school and he would never be a mere playing like a fool toddler again. (ohh how I fondly remember how he would ask me for a hog gog every day after pre-school)  A “hog gog” being a hot dog from this awesome place, Sheetz, in PA. 

His first day of kindergarten happened when we moved to Florida.  He was nearly 6 when he started school and he was all blue eyes and smiles and his backpack was twice the size of him it seemed.  I cried that day too.  A new state to live in, a new school to go to, and he took it all in stride.

I’ve cried many other moments and days since then.

But today he called me saying “Mom, Dad says that YOU have my birth certificate, and I need it so I can go to the DMV and file for my permit tomorrow.”

I will drive home tonight and take it over to his Dad’s house tonight and drop it in the mailbox because my baby needs it.

After I cry…just a few tears….or more. My baby took his written test and passed the first go around.  My baby….*sob* My baby is old enough to drive a car.

I read a lot of blogs.  I read more than what I have listed on my blog here.  I have bloglines and the amount of blogs I read in a day is astounding sometimes.  I do however delete people that begin to agitate me as I see no point in allowing strangers to agitate me.  I also do not find my blog is astounding, especially as of recently (ie: inject college = removal of time to vent).  I believe my blog was a wonderiffic train wreck of a read back in the 2001-2002 era.  I have often found myself in the shower wondering if I should just close up shop, but then I remember how my blog assisted me to survive when life was nearly suicidal daily.  I’m grateful for Diaryland for housing those years as occasionally I pop over there and gaze as the horror that was my freak show life at that time and I’m enamored with my current life even more so.  It’s easy for me to forget those times, even though I have the scars to prove they truly happened.  However, I realize that I may have been quilty of any of the following at some point in my blogging years (especially since this month marks my 7^th blogiversary).

I also don’t write to make money (I refuse to place ad’s on my blog), to please or appease anyone else, nor to make friends (oh but it’s nice when it happens….), or to entertain anyone.  If I was entertaining, I’d have more readers perhaps.

Having said all of this I’m about to brain dump about the things I hate about the internet and especially blogging.  I’m sure this will piss people off, but as always I don’t care. I never started a blog to make other people happy.

Things I hate about blogs (ie: reasons I remove people from my reading list)

1. Always Blogging about your spouse as though you never fight and he/she is perfect (*cough* bullshit!)
2. Bloggers who complain about their finances yet post g’zillions of pictures on their blog showing me the reader all the things they buy.
3. Bloggers who use their blog as their sole income.
4. Stay at home mom’s who complain about their husband’s long hours. (Stupid bitch, your man is out earning your keep!)
5. Bloggers who don’t use spell check. (huked on fonix’s wurked not 4 u’s)
6. Bloggers who refer to their boyfriend or girlfriends family as their mother in law, niece, nephew etc. (HULLO you’re not married to her/him!!)
7. Bloggers who never admit to their own downfalls, struggles, etc. (It’s NOT always someone else’s fault.
8. Bloggers who pay their bills solely from the shit they make up and write about online.
9. Bloggers who admit they make shit up when they eventually write their book they try to cram down our throats via the free advertisement that is the Internet.
10. Bloggers who get a book deal and then stop keeping a blog.
11. Bloggers who write shitty books. (There are writers and there are bloggers and the two are not always one and the same) *note I could provide a long list of shitty blog to books I’ve read.  I’m of the opinion that blog’s are blogs and they do not translate well as books that come across as diaries.
12. Bloggers who write shitty books that are mere carbon copies of blog entries. (THAT is not a book…it’s a BLOOK…call it what it is please!)
13. Bloggers that post pictures of their animals..and that’s all the entire blog is, call it a dogblog or pussblog so we all know..thanks!
14. Bloggers that complain about their children being a pain in the ass. (God I hate you people….truly I do!)  You weren’t blessed with children just so you had more possessions in life.  Children require blood sweat and tears….give it to them.  Some people would give their left arm to just have children!! 
15. Mommy bloggers.  I’m referring to those that have what I term as the “BABYBLOG”  just call it that so we know.  I love to hear about people’s children, but there’s a line….if you’re the type of person that has no life and talks only of your children 24/7 then you are a babyblogger or kidblogger.  I love my son, but I have a life too.  Call it a babyblog up there in the big header…so I can avoid you…mmkay.  Thanks!  Oh by the way, if you’re kid is walking AND TALKING he/she shouldn’t still have a bottle hanging out of his/her mouth and same goes for the pacifier….who’s in charge there?  The kid or you?
16. Book blogs that never speak about books, but instead speak about other things.  Let’s all categorize ourselves properly, I don’t want to spend weeks hoping for book news and find out that all I’m going to see is Fluffy the cat and your garden pictures.  It’s like reading a bad book waiting for it to get better.  No thanks.
17. Blogs where people never pee, poop, get sick, have distress, fight, argue, etc.  That’s just not normal.  Painting a picture of the perfect life all the time is just…well I’m not buying the shit you’re trying to sell me.
18. I hate blogs that are broken (fix your blog shit….if you’re curtain rod was broken and I came to visit you in your house I’d tell you to fix that too!) in places.  If I can’t get to your archives and it’s a persistent thing…fix that shit or I’m deleting you.
19. Blogs whereby the owner trys to pretend to be thin and/or younger than they are.  Please just be yourself, I might like you better than who you think you should be to please the damn Internet.
20. Blogs that are boring. I don’t care what you ate for breakfast unless you’re a diet blog or your breakfast contents are leading somewhere.

Having said all of this…these are just my opinions and I think all Bloggers should just do what they damned well please.  However, I will read who I damned well want to too.  These are just the things that make me delete what I read daily.   Why do you read my blog daily?  Tomorrow I’ll tell you why I LOVE blogs.

I have considered and reconsidered writing about this topic, but since it’s affecting my life at the moment, I am going to delve in and write about it.

About a week and a half ago, Rick went to the ER. Why? Because he had a lump on his back and it was oozing a type of mucus or fluid. It was of course concerning. It turned out to be a skin abscess. This is something I was totally unfamiliar with and trust that it took me nearly a week to find anything appropriate about it online.  Google was not my friend, I don’t care about Cat skin abscesses dear Google gods!!

For those that are brave information seeking souls, or medically interested…you can read about it here or here.

I am in affect changing the “packing material” in his now open wound. This takes place twice a day. How in the hell did I learn what to do and what medical supplies to buy to avoid paying doctors extreme amounts of money to provide wound care you ask?

I asked my brother in law’s girlfriend who is a nurse. She drove Rick to the medical supply place and then they both came back and she took the time to teach me how to provide “wound care” to Rick’s wound all by myself. She even lent me her tools.

I’m basically removing a big band-aid, pulling out packing material (that’s sold in a bottle full of long stripping of packing material thread like bandages), and pushing new stuff inside. This requires a lot of alcohol wipes on the two instruments that Chrissy provided me with, both look quite nursey (nursey is that a word), no NOT nursey, they look “medically technical”, and then I take a long cotton swab, much like a long q-tip, and push the new bandage threading inside the open wound allowing some hang out for drainage, and then I put on a new BIG band-aid. And then I spend a few moments scratching around the Bandage because apparently it’s uber itchy.  I’m sooo attentive as a nurse to the husband.

The packing material looks like the below..imagine grabbing this long 1/4 inch stripping with long tweezers from a bottle where it’s all coiled up inside like a mass of thread worms and removing it, cutting it to size and then pushing clean new stuff inside with a long q-tip.  Trust me when I say finding the end of each time is not easy (from inside the bottle that is).  I have problems sometimes judging the length I will need and then after shoving it inside his wound on his back, I must use my nursey scissors and cut it shorter after it’s inserted.  I’m not a nurse but I play one for my husband twice a day!  I love you honey and I’m gonna fix your boo boo.

In the past year I have earned only A’s in college.  I am proud of my accomplishment.

There will always be a part of me that cares.  I wish I could just hate him all the way already.  Why do I care?  I don’t care because of myself…I care because we have this amazing articulate beautiful child together and that child deserves better than a Daddy that gets arrested at his own home by two cops that come with a warrant.

And the new charge is?

“OBTAINING PROPERTY IN RETURN FOR W/L CHECK”

Yes I care what his father does, because I wish he didn’t do this stuff….god how I wish he didn’t do this stupid stuff.

He bailed out within 4 hours and by that time I had left work early to retrieve my son.  I could see the worry on my son’s face.  This is what happens when you love someone who is maddening and has a criminal mind.  I realize it’s probably due to his not having a job and him trying to pay a bill he can’t afford, but in the big scheme of things when you write a bad check to pay for something you don’t have the money for it doesn’t help things, it exasperates them.

At the same time I’m human and I hope this is all driving his new wife fucking batty.  And therein lies the place where I can’t ever seem to be the bigger person because I think she deserves every bit of the hassle he gives her.  But I’m sad because Keith doesn’t.

It’s mind numbing.  The entire thing just stresses me out too much when I think too hard about it.  Watching him do these things to his own life (my ex that is) still sucks because it’s my son he hurts.  You can get a divorce, move on with your life…but you can’t get rid of the baby daddy.  I told Keith it’s impossible for me to entirely not care…because without his father I would not have him….so there’s some secret place somewhere so deep that just wants him to get his shit together and be a good person.  And that feeling just reminds me of how much it sucks to want to believe in someone that will always dissapoint you.